


Better Than it Was

by Meliphyre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 03:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meliphyre/pseuds/Meliphyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt at the oh!Sam livejournal community.  <br/>Written for a prompt by ladykorana at the ohsam community.</p><p>PROMPT: <br/>The boys run into Jody Mills. She's still (quite understandably) shaken and freaked by her near-death-by-Crowley. However, once she sees how ill Sam looks, she seizes upon 'nurse Sam back to health' as her new mission</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Than it Was

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the events at the end of season 8. 
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own anything.

Sheriff Jody Mills. At least that is what the name on her office door read. She hadn’t seen it in nearly a week. Not since the night she had embarrassed herself by nearly dying on the bathroom floor of one of the best restaurants in town. They kept her in the hospital for the next day and decided it must have been a brief and severe reaction to something she had ingested. She was pumped with antibiotics and ordered to take it easy for the next few days. To top it off, she didn’t hear from her date again. 

She had not followed doctor’s orders and had found it damn near impossible to take it easy. It was probably more of a suggestion anyway, she figured. She was anxious and wondered if or even when she would suddenly stop breathing and start spewing forth blood again. When she closed her eyes, she could feel her throat constricting and her lungs imploding. It was getting to the point she was afraid to close her eyes. 

The doctors said the episode was a reaction. She thought and feared otherwise. She knew better. 

She could continue to muddle through as best as she could. She was sheriff. She was good at that. Or she could admit there was something wrong, she was feeble, and make a phone call. 

She fervently hoped the anxiety would fade but after the third day of jumping at every shadow and every sound, she grabbed a beer out of the fridge and picked up the phone. She held her breath until it was answered. “Sam?”

“Guess again,” was the gruff response. 

“Dean. Jody Mills.” Damn. She had no idea how to start. She took a long swig of beer before continuing. “Dean, I… I think I have a problem,” she finally blurted out. “Is there any chance you two are close and could come by?” 

“I wish we could. We’re kind of settled at the moment,” Dean replied. 

Jody felt the pit of her stomach plummet in disappointment mingled with fear. “Can I come to you?” She asked nervously. There was a beat of silence that made her even more nervous. Maybe she shouldn’t have called after all. The boys had enough to deal without her… reaction. 

“OK. Sure,” Dean finally said and Jody felt an enormous relief as air filled her lungs again. “Jody, you know Sam and I trust you completely but I have to have your word that the location I am going to give you remains completely secret.” 

Nothing mysterious about that, Jody thought and then gave Dean her verbal promise. 

About six and a half hours later, Jody pulled in front of what Dean had adequately described as a bunker. It certainly resembled any manner of building she had seen on military bases and in old war movies. She figured this must be some sort of left over relic from the Cold War and was very interesting in learning how the Winchesters had come by such. Jody was staring at the structure when Dean emerged from the door. She broke from her rumination and got out of the car. 

Dean enfolded her to him. “It is so damn good to see you, Jody,” he told her. 

“You too, Dean.” 

Dean grabbed her bag and escorted her in. She was awed by what lay inside. “Wow,” she said softly. 

“I know. All the comforts of home,” Dean said proudly. “With a kick.” 

Jody looked around and saw maps, and books, and filing cabinets that would certainly qualify as antique. What she did not see was Sam. “Where’s Sam?” 

“Napping,” Dean said flippantly but Jody did not miss the shadow that darkened his eyes for a brief moment. “Can I get you a beer?” He asked as he set down her bag by the table. 

She nodded and then followed him into the kitchen. It was sizeable with old appliances that also looked as though they were from the mid-20th Century. There were touches, however, that identified it as pure Winchester- programmable Mr. Coffee, hot rod mugs on the counters, microwave. 

Dean handed her a beer from the old Frigidaire. “This is nice.” She told him.

Dean beamed with pride. “We have a kitchen. I am actually cooking and I don’t mean meals dumped out of a can.” 

It dawned on Jody that the boys had never had a proper kitchen, much less a proper home. Bobby Singer’s had come close, such as it was. She swallowed hard against the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “Dean, this is just impressive. You do not have dirty dishes lying about!” 

Dean barked out a laugh. “Makes it look nice. Gotta keep it that way.” 

In order to hold off the inevitable conversation she needed to have, she asked how it had come into their possession. Dean animatedly told her about the visit from the grandfather and the Men of Letters. 

“It’s like the research arm of hunting,” Jody concluded. “Must be like catnip for Sam.” Again, she noticed the same shadow as before when she had asked about Sam. It passed quickly into the oft affectionate look he took only for his brother. 

There was a moment of companionable silence while drinking beer. He didn’t want to ask and she didn’t want to tell. She sighed heavily and took another long drag to steel herself. “Something happened to me, Dean. About a week ago. It scared the crap out of me and I think it is your kind of thing, though the doctor’s said it was a bad reaction to something I ingested.” 

“Shit,” Dean moaned. 

Jody knew how to read people. She could tell what someone was thinking by even the slightest change in expression. This ability saved her life from a suspect more than once in her long career in law enforcement. Dean’s reaction was not one of surprise but of sorrow and guilt. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question. 

Dean emptied the bottle down his throat. “Yeah. Jody I am so very damn sorry that happened to you. Jesus.” He scrubbed his face as if it would assuage the guilt. He turned back to the Frigidaire and retrieved two more beers, handed her one. 

She wanted to be angry now that there was someone to blame for the hell she had been going through. Instead of railing, she simply admitted, “I’m anxious all the time, nightmares…”

In response Dean looked even more pained. “I should have called you I’ll fill you in.” 

She followed Dean out back into the main room and she saw Sam just emerging from another part of the Bunker. He was wearing sweat pants, long sleeve t-shirt with a heavy flannel over. Even from a distance, she could tell he was not well. 

“Hey you’re here already!” Sam said cheerfully with his usual sheepish grin. 

She handed her beer off to Dean so she could hug him properly. Even through the layers, she could feel the heat radiating from him. “So good to see you Sam,” she said softly. When she released him, she put both of her hands on his cheeks in a gesture of affection but also to ascertain whether or not he had a fever. It was an old trick she had practiced long ago with on her son. Sam was indeed very warm to the touch and his eyes were glassy and red rimmed. “Jesus Sam! Did you forget to eat your vegetables?” 

From behind her, Dean snorted. “As if.” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Sam said “But I am getting better. Honest!” he added when he saw her glare. He nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. 

“Trust me Jody, the kid is much better than he was a few days ago.” 

Jody eyed the younger Winchester carefully. “Do you have any water or Gatorade in that fabulous kitchen of yours?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Dean answered. “Both. We are stocked. Even have vegetables and meat!” 

Jody marched back into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of water and a bottle of orange Gatorade. She handed both to Sam before retrieving her beer from Dean. “I think you two owe me a story.” 

So they sat around the table and Sam and Dean took turns telling her about the Trials, the Tablets, and Crowley. 

“I never meant to involve anyone else,” Sam said sadly by way of apology. “If I could change it all…” 

“Shhh Sam. It’s not your fault and in the end, you saved me.” 

“After we put you in danger,” he added miserably. 

Jody laid a comforting hand on his forearm as he fidgeted nervously with the label of the Gatorade. She said his name softly and he hung his head. She realized he was not OK and looked at Dean questioningly. 

“These trials did a number on him,” Dean explained. She shifted her eyes back to Sam and noticed his cheeks reddening. None of them were comfortable discussing their frailties. “But trust me when I say, Jody, he is much better than he was. Not coughing up so much blood anymore.” 

“What?” 

“It was pretty bad,” Sam admitted. 

“Jesus God almighty,” Jody swore. “I take it you did not see a doctor?” Both Winchesters seemed to wither under her scrutiny. “I suppose there was not much they could do about it, anyway” she relented. Just like there would have been nothing they could do about a demonic killing if that demon had not have stopped. She shook back her own thoughts and trauma. She was OK, she thought. Sam was not. “Do you have a thermometer?” 

“I do,” Dean said giving a huge grin in the direction of his brother before he got up. He retrieved a white metal box from a cabinet and then opened it, again, Jody noted, with pride. “We have a whole medicine cabinet. Neosporin. Advil. Tylenol. Syringes. Stuff for stitches. Bandaids… even some with flowers for Sammy.” 

Sam glared at Dean who continued to grin as he passed the thermometer to Jody. “Open,” she instructed Sam. He opened his mouth to protest giving her the opportunity to shove it into his mouth. “Hold it in there and don’t bite.” He huffed about it but complied. She retrieved it again when it beeped. “101.6” she read, frowned. 

“It’s going down,” Sam said helpfully. 

“Have you taken anything for it?” Sam shook his head in response. Jody sighed and reached for the metal box. She found the Tylenol, dumped three in her palm and then handed them to Sam. The man had a heart of gold and he would wear himself down proving it. She intended to make sure he did not do so any further than he already was regardless of his assurances he was getting better. God he looked like hell. “You boys have anything lined up?” She waited just a beat giving them just enough time to open their mouths but not enough to actually say anything. “The answer to that question is no.” She held up a hand to halt any protests. “So this is what is going to happen. I am going to take some of my well-deserved vacation time and make sure this thermometer gets back down to a cool 98.6.” 

“Jody, you don’t have to do that,” Sam said. 

“Apparently I do,” she countered. It was as much for her as it was for Sam. She needed something to clear her head. “Also, you are going to take me on a tour of this fortress of Winchester and then I am going to cook dinner. Chicken, veggie and rice soup. You have chicken?”

“We have everything,” Dean replied. 

“I could eat.” Sam said.

Dean looked at him with surprise. “Really?” 

Sam nodded. “It sounds good.” 

Dean rose, picked up her bag. “I’ll show you to a guest room…. We have rooms!.. and we’ll get to that tour.” 

Sam and Dean took her through the cavernous Bunker and both practically glowed as they showed her the various rooms, even the ones they had no idea what was in them. As she suspected, Sam was in his element in the library. “Everything was catalogued,” he said. “We added what we had and Bobby’s collection.” 

“At least what we know about,” Dean interjected. “There’s probably more we haven’t found yet.” 

Jody remembered clearing out the huge amount of boxes from just one storage space and blinked. “There’s more?” She asked incredulously. 

“Probably. He was too paranoid to keep everything in one place,” Dean said. 

Jody remembered fondly. “True.” 

She saw Sam and noticed his cheeks were flush indicating he had probably had enough exertion for the moment. “I think it’s time to get dinner started,” She said. 

It was an old recipe she had made countless times. Good ole comfort food. Dean enthusiastically assisted. Sam pulled out a chair from the kitchen table. He sat and took it easy while nursing more water and Gatorade. Every so often Jody glanced at him to make sure he was still holding his own. She noticed Dean doing the same. They chatted amiably about the recipe, ingredients, and onto the more humorous antics on various hunts. That escalated into Dean and Sam trading barb. Dean kept winning much to the annoyance of both brothers. 

It must be hard, Jody thought. Someone like Sam was used to being part of the action and just active but he was betrayed by his own body, unable to do much, even hold his own against Dean. “Hey Sam, why don’t you set the table,” she suggested. She suspected he would have shot up from the chair if he could have. 

Dean turned a quizzical look in his direction. “You know how to set a table?” 

Sam narrowed his eyes in annoyance. “Dude, it’s not that hard.” 

Dean shrugged and returned to measuring rice. 

“Do you have any bread?” Jody asked. 

Dean pointed to the breadbox on the other counter. “Sandwich bread.”

“Hey Sam when you get through with that, why don’t you butter some pieces of bread and we’ll have that too.” 

With the bread buttered and soup finished, they sat at the table to eat. “This is nice,” Dean said as he ladled soup into his bowl. “Sitting around a table for an actual home cooked meal, huh Sammy?” 

Sam returned Dean’s broad grin with a halfhearted smile as he took the ladle from Dean. He filled his bowl and took a slice of bread. In the end, he finished the entire bowl and even sopped the dregs with the bread. “That was really good, Jody. Thanks.” 

“Look at you, Sammy. Almost eating like a real man. Not a lettuce in sight,” Dean teased around a mouthful of soup. 

Sam shot a glare at Dean who continued to grin. Based on what they had told her, Jody suspected Dean was just pleased Sam was eating at all. She would have to make sure that trend continued. 

“You cooked. We’ll do the dishes,” Sam said. 

“Hey I cooked too!” Dean interjected. 

Sam merely shrugged. “I’ll do the dishes then.” 

“All right I’ll help. Just to make sure everything gets put back in the proper place.” 

“I’m not an invalid, Dean.” 

“Didn’t say you were.” 

“I’m doing the dishes.” 

“Have at it then.” 

While they glared and bristled at each other, Jody simply picked up hers and Sam’s dishes and then carried them to the sink. Sam joined her to help while Dean finished his second bowl. 

When the dishes were cleaned, dried, and put up, they settled in a den area with ratty tweed furniture and a flat screen TV. Dean assumed responsibility of the remote and found a baseball game. It didn’t matter who was playing, it was just relaxing background. Sam sank into the couch and propped his feet on the scarred coffee table. He crossed his arms and huddled into himself. Jody took the afghan from the back of the couch and laid it over him, tucked in the sides. A quick smile played at his lips in gratitude. 

Later when Sam started to drift off, Dean nudged him. “Why don’t you go to bed before you really conk out? You’ll get a crick or something.” 

Sam straightened and blinked his eyes to try to keep the fog threatening to overtake him at bay long enough to make it to bed. “Yeah. Probably a good idea.” He stood and stretched his long frame toward the ceiling. “Good night, then. You’ll be here in the morning?” He asked Jody. 

“Bet on it. Take some more Tylenol,” she advised. He waved a hand in acknowledgement as he walked out. She watched him until he was out of sight and then saw Dean take a long pull from his bottle. “Is he really better?” She asked him. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah. He is,” he told her, his relief obvious. 

Jody involuntarily winced. Sam was far from healthy at the moment and it was hard if not painful to imagine he had been worse. 

“What about you?”

“Huh?” She was caught off guard by the question as her concern was solely on Sam at the moment. 

Dean pointed the neck of his bottle at her. “You came here for a reason.”

She realized that she had spent most of the day not even thinking about her near demon induced near death experience. It was a change from the past week and certainly a relief. She had come for one reason but perhaps she was meant to be there for another reason. She took pull on her own bottle before responding. “I think I’ll be OK,” she eventually responded. “I understand it at least. That’s something. Who would have ever thought that demons would be more a plausible explanation than a reaction,” she added wryly. “I’m more concerned about Sam.” 

“Join the club,” Dean said emphatically. 

“And I was serious about staying, Dean.” 

“I think Sam would like that. I’d like that,” he added thoughtfully. “You can give me a few cooking pointers.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you saying that because I’m a woman?”

Dean called her bluff and a grin played at the corners of his lips. “Yeah and then you’d kick my ass into the next two time zones.” 

“Damn right I would!”

The mood considerably lightened. They stayed up talking for a while about movies, sports, and how the music of the day sucked in comparison to the classics. (“Does anyone even really sing or play instruments anymore?” Dean bemoaned.) They made plans to have a Star Wars Marathon over the next few days but only the original three. “That Jar Jar is one fucker I'd love to gank,” Dean muttered. A Lord of the Rings marathon was not the best idea at the moment. It was obvious he was more relaxed than he had been in a while. Shoulders that had been held stiffly all day were now more at ease. The worried lines in his forehead were fewer and he smiled easier. Jody noticed that a shadow remained in his eyes, the part of him that worried for Sam. 

Jody was fading and decided it was time to turn in for the night. Dean concurred, stood, and stretched. “Tomorrow morning I’ll make breakfast,” he told her. “Bacon, eggs, pancakes… and not the frozen kind either. The kind from the yellow box.” Again, he smiled with pride when talking about his kitchen and the skills he was acquiring. 

His enthusiasm was contagious and something Jody knew they had both lacked as of late. She smiled in return. “Do you boys like pie? I can run to the store and get stuff for one. Apple?” 

“Jody you know the way to my heart,” Dean replied. 

Jody felt lighter than she had in over a week as she went to the guest room in the bunker. She had lived through her ordeal and found a renewed purpose outside of herself. A few days of what most considered a normal life would do her and the boys good and hopefully, Sam would shake the after effects of the Trials. She would do her best to make sure of it anyway. 

She changed, brushed her teeth, and was just about to get into the very inviting bed when an odd noise that sounded inhuman. She thought it might have been just the old facility groaning under the weight of decades but dismissed that notion when she began to make out the name Sarah and her own name. She threw open the door and saw Dean two doors down had done the same. She inclined her head indicating she would see to Sam. Dean nodded in return but leaned against the door jamb as opposed to returning into his room. He would make sure his little brother was OK first. 

Sam’s room was across the hall and caddy corner to the one Jody occupied. The door was ajar so she pushed it open and entered. Sam was twitching about spasmodically and his eyes were squeezed shut against the horrific images that were no doubt playing through his head. Her heart shattered. She shook his shoulder gently and said his name. It wasn’t enough. He continued to cry out for Sarah and curse Crowley. She used both hands to shake him more forcefully. “Sam. Time to wake up now,” she said. 

And he did, bolting straight up and a strangled cry catching in his throat. He looked about wide eyes as he tried to make sense of where he was and what was going on. Jody sat beside him on the bed and an arm at the back of his shoulders. “Shhh Sam. You’re OK. Everyone’s safe,” She told him softly. He pulled up his knees and lowered his head. Jody just sat with him and rubbed his back soothingly while his breathing slowed and the raggedness began to even. 

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” he finally said. His voice was full of quiet despair. 

Jody continued to rub his back. “I wasn’t asleep yet, Sam, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.” 

He took a deep breath before raising his head and leaning it against the headboard. “Well that was kind of embarrassing,” he quipped. 

“We all have nightmares, Sam. Especially after…” She found that she couldn’t actually say the words “I almost died”. The words caught in her throat and she swallowed hard against them. “I guess they’re just a way of coping.”

Sam turned to her, eyes wide. “I don’t feel like I’m coping. I’m just reliving the same terrible things over and over and every time there is nothing I can do about it” he said in a rush. 

She reached up and gently stroked his hair comfortingly. “Oh Sam. You do as much as you can and then some all the time. Hell, you wreck yourself doing it,” she told him softly. 

He looked toward the ceiling and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, against the truth. “It’s never enough. I couldn’t save Sarah.” He paused and attempted another deep breath that only hitched in his lungs. “I barely saved you. If I….” 

Jody snapped his name and he turned startled eyes toward her. “We can drive ourselves mad with ‘what ifs’. We can only do as such as we can with what is in our power. There is so much shit in between to have to muddle through that it is nearly impossible to not come away with an if or two. You cannot let it consume you Sam.” 

“Logically, I know that. It’s just hard.” 

Jody nodded in tired agreement. She certainly had her fair share of “ifs” through her many years of law enforcement. “Sam, I’m here. You figured it out. And I’m sure you did everything you possibly could for Sarah.” 

“Not enough,” he said, his already ragged voice breaking. 

“Oh Sam.” She shifted so she could pull his head down to rest on her shoulder. He didn’t resist and laid his head down. Jody comfortingly stroked his hair as they sat in silence. 

After a while he said, “I’m just so tired,” into her shoulder. “I’m tired of feeling so damn bad all the time. Tired of fighting to find the energy just to do normal things like walk to the kitchen.” 

“You are doing nothing for the next few days but taking it easy and getting food into you.” 

He lifted his head and there was the slightest ghost of a smile at his lips. It didn’t quite touch his red rimmed eyes. “If there’s anything else like that soup…”

“There’s leftovers,” she assured him. “I can make others too.”

“I’d like that.” 

“We’ll get you well, Sam,” she told him and patted his knee for emphasis. “You should try to get some sleep. 

He yawned hugely at the very suggestion of sleep. “Yeah. I guess. I hope at least.” He straightened his long legs and scooted back under the covers. He rolled over and nestled his head into the pillow. 

Jody sat with him for a while, absently running a hand through his hair and along his back. Maybe it was comforting… maybe it would keep the nightmares at bay. It was what she told herself anyway. In the quiet she was reminded of something else in addition to a kitchen Sam had never had and that was a mother. “Sam,” she whispered as the thought tore at her heart. Sick boys always wanted their mother. How many times in his life had he, and Dean for that matter, been sick and not have the gentleness of a mother. Not that either of them were boys anymore but Bobby had always referred to Sam and Dean as his boys so she supposed they were her boys now. She could take care him for a few days. It would do them both good, she surmised. 

Eventually Sam’s breathing slowed into the evenness of sleep. She brushed hair back from his face and kissed his forehead gently. The warmth of the fever was still radiating from him, she noted. But for now, he slept peacefully. She had a feeling a peaceful night’s sleep would find her as well.


End file.
